


Lycoris

by doridoripawaa



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Assassination Attempt(s), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Multiple Personalities, Other, Reader-Insert, assassin saeran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doridoripawaa/pseuds/doridoripawaa
Summary: A garden of Eden, or a garden of the end?Was the manor's new gardener your foe or your friend?Always a dreamer, you were eager to take on the task to deliver some goods to Lord Kim's manor in the big city.You didn't expect to become betrothed to his son, Jihyun.You certainly didn't expect to capture the attention of the Mint Eye guild, either.Assassin!Saeran AU
Relationships: Choi Saeran/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

“Happily ever after” was mere fantasy

Which mothers to their starry-eyed babes often told.

Imagine your start, when in your life you did see

A whimsical fairy tale begin to unfold.

Betrothal and betrayal, friends and foes alike

Awaited you from this moment and so beyond.

The people you would meet, the paths you were to strike

Would establish a unique, unbreakable bond.

A red string of fate tied you to him, but alas

The world would try to sever it with a hot knife.

You two were destined to entwine each other’s paths

But would your story be doomed to a star-crossed life?

Spider lilies in his garden, ‘side baby’s breath.

Would your fable end in love, or perhaps in death?

* * *

Happily ever after was the stuff of dreams, yet children were raised on such exorbitant tales. Just like the other young lads and lasses of your village, you would gaze up at the elders, enthralled, as they wove legends and legacies above your heads.

As time passed, however, reality’s grip only grew stronger, and the other children of your small community began to lose a hold of their fantasies. Farming, weaving, gathering, sewing, chopping, fishing, herding. Your humble home was not the place for delusions of grandeur; there was much work to be done and seemingly never enough hands. The only gold you would ever see was hay. The only silver you would ever see were trout scales.

A part of you, though, stubbornly resisted the pressure to “mature,” to “wisen up,” to “get your head out of the clouds.” Even if those fairy tales that ended in true love’s kiss or riding off into the sunset were just carefully crafted compendiums, intended to delight gullible, impressionable children, they held a certain quality that just made you feel so… warm. Secure. Hopeful. Surely your life had a meaning beyond picking fruits and baking pies. (You did have a reputation for making the best baked goods in the village and perhaps in the country, second only to the baker in the big city; you’d never had the luxury of traveling far beyond the confines of the village, however, so the cakes and pastries of the legendary Yoosung Kim would remain a fairy tale of their own kind for now.)

Was believing in a fantasy, or creating one within your dreams, really such a heinous crime? Would it harm anyone for you to entertain notions of princesses and princes, knights and nobles, heroes and villains? Of love that conquers all odds, or of devotion that could even lead to death? Comedic, tragic, dramatic: you loved it all.

Perhaps the “happily ever afters” were still your favorite, though.

Life didn’t play out like a fairy tale, though, and with each passing year, reality provided more and more reminders of this cruel fact. Disease, drought, decay. But then you also had the celebrations to look forward to, like weddings, babies, and birthdays.

But as summer approached and you found yourself out in the yard plucking strawberries until your hands were stained red, you found it somewhat difficult to entertain your usual motivational fantasies. The sun was directly overhead, and its harsh heat and light seemed to soak into your skin. Panting, sweating, heaving, barely breathing. You hated the sticky heat of this time of year, when rain showers were common and left the air disgustingly humid. With a grumble you plopped another plump berry in your basket and tugged down on the brim of your sunhat, hoping the sun would at least move from such a lofty perch soon.

As you bent over pinching and plucking berries, you didn’t even notice that one of the local children was running towards you until you heard his footsteps clamoring and causing a ruckus a few feet away. “Careful!” you called out, lifting your head to look at him directly. He shrank back a little from the intensity of your voice and your gaze. “You don’t want to trip on a loose grapevine!”

Whose idea was it to plant the grapes over here, anyway?

He slowed his pace but still scrambled, keeping his eyes on the ground to watch for straggling vines, branches, or thickets. Finally he reached your side, and he paused momentarily to catch his breath. You recognized him as one of the feistier kids in the village, and also as one of the fastest.

That should have been your first red flag

“W-we need ya, [Y/N],” he wheezed. “Y-ya see…

We hafta deliver somethin’ to Lord Kim!”

* * *

The Kim family.

They were the nobles who ruled over this territory, under the grace of King Choi. Not only your village, but the surrounding villages, all fell within the Kim domain. Of course you paid your protective dues and sent resources to the Kims regularly, but a special request such as this was…

An unusual occurrence, to say the least.

Lord Kim was known as a shrewd man with a keen eye for business dealings. He was in close relations with the lord of the neighboring county, Lord Han, and they were said to be an unstoppable force. You didn’t know much about Lord Han, but you were very aware of a certain peculiarity of Lord Kim: he had a fondness for the arts.

When you heard the trades people of the village begin to murmur and mingle upon their returns from the city, you would often hear about the city’s little quirks: musicians in the streets, dancers in the plaza, paintings on the side of buildings. You would hear about the occasional traveling theatre troupe reciting sonnets or even acting out plays.

Which begged the question… what could Lord Kim possibly want to do with a basket of strawberries, sprinkles of seeds, and a wheel of goat’s cheese, among other things? Why, above all other places, would he single out your village? Couldn’t he easily obtain materials of the highest quality from the city bazaar, or even delivered directly to the door of his manor?

You weren’t one to complain, though. In fact, you were the local specialty on plant life, and so when the task came to deliver fruits and flowers, you were the natural choice for the job. The trek to the city would take an entire day by foot, but you could not care less about the amount of physical pain you may have to endure. You were going to see the city! You were going to walk up to the door of Lord Kim himself and humbly deliver a basket of your freshest, most meticulously selected goods. Your chest began to flutter at the thought of living out a fairy tale dream of going to a lord’s manor, even if the visit were to be brief. You would finally see and hear and taste and feel and smell the city, and maybe it would inspire you to craft your own legends once you became an elder, too. You would have your own experiences to shape you.

You were so eager to get going, you almost forgot your baskets.

* * *

_ “Be careful in the forest!” _

_ “Watch your step in the woods!” _

_ “Stay on high alert!” _

Warnings, cautions, unsolicited advice. This may have been your first visit to the city, but you were not a child. You had enough wisdom of the world to lead you safely to Lord Kim’s door!

Right?

“I could spend days here,” you murmured, inhaling deeply as you trod through the forest that separated your humble town from the big city. The travelers and tradespeople of your village constantly spoke of how eerie, how mysterious, how downright scary the woods could be.

If that was the case, why did you find it so enchanting? Sunlight filtering in between the leafy canopy overhead; babbling brooks rushing over slick, smooth stones; soft chirps, chatters, and songs of animals floating through the air; and above all, flowers and berries and herbs everywhere the eye could see.

“Whoa, spider lilies,” you breathed as you approached a cluster of budding blush blooms begging to burst. “I can’t wait to see them fully grown.” Your eyes flickered over to another nearby cluster of color. “Goldenrods!” You were almost tempted to take a sprig with you, as a token of good luck for your travels.

You had a lengthy journey ahead of you; surely resting your feet for a moment or two would benefit you in the long run.

Having made your decision, you gently placed your baskets down on a nearby tree stump and plopped yourself onto the ground beside the bush of goldenrod blossoms. You took a moment to be grateful that you had worn a chestnut-colored tunic for this trip; dirt stains on your rear end would be beyond embarrassing for when you showed up in the city. You rolled up your sleeves and began to pinch at the base of the flower stems, wanting to give yourself enough material to work with.

One stem, two.

Three stems, four.

Flowers? A whole slew.

Goldenrods galore.

Weaving and tying, you carefully overlapped and braided the stems of the goldenrods into a long, sturdy string. Leaning back against the trunk of a sturdy oak, the shade was refreshing as the broad leaves provided you shade while you crafted. “Is this wide enough?” you murmured to yourself after a while; you decided to untie the kerchief around your head so that you could accurately determine how wide you needed to make your crown.

And thank goodness you turned your head to place your crown down on the stump beside your baskets, or else you never would have noticed the silent scoundrel that had crept up and was hunched over the stump, about to snatch your baskets away right under your nose.

“H-huh?” Startled, you weren’t sure how, or whether, to react. A figure draped in a large pine-colored cloak, bending over  _ your _ belongings, arms outstretched over  _ your  _ baskets. “Who… are you?” you managed to sputter out at last as you jumped to your feet, nearly tripping over your feet in the process.

“Nya ha ha, I guess I’ve been spotted.” A mischievous tone, a smug chuckle, and… a dangerous glint in a dazzling pair of golden eyes, richer than any jewelry or gem that you had ever had the fortune to see in your life. “Well, that leaves us with two options.”

No sooner had you opened your mouth than had the shadow appeared before you and shut it, gently placing his hand underneath your chin and pushing it up to clamp your lips. “Shh, don’t make a ruckus,” he whispered. “Just empty your pockets and I’ll be on my way, alright?”

Wait… were you being  _ robbed _ ? Suddenly the whispers and mutters and cries of the traders of your village flooded back to your memory. This place wasn’t dangerous because of lions, tigers, or bears; the reason why everyone dreaded traveling through the woods to get to the city was because of bandits, crooks, and rogues! “I… I don’t have anything,” you breathed.

“Let me see it to believe it, kitten,” he cooed, and much to your dismay he shuffled closer, effectively pinning you between his body and the tree trunk. “Although…” Those glittering golden eyes scanned you from head to toe, and you shuddered at how exposed you suddenly felt, how vulnerable. His eyes seemed to capture all, analyze everything. “You don’t look like a merchant. Are you really just a lost village kid?”

Despite your trembling, you felt your hands clench into fists by your sides. “I’m not a child,” you muttered.

“Maturity is more than about age, kitty cat,” he purred. “It’s about experience. It’s about mentality. And you, little one, almost let me get away with a perfect escape.”

A stab to the heart. Just because he was right didn’t mean he had to be so blunt about it. “I only have pocket change,” you insisted. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Every bit helps!” he hummed, and his hand suddenly shuffled to push back part of his cloak, revealing a pouch strapped around his waist. “Come on~ I really don’t like making things messy, you know? I’m just looking for a quick coin.” As his fingers slipped inside the leather patch, you thought you saw the faint glisten of metal inside. Was that a coin, or was it…

No. You didn’t want to think about what kind of cold steel he could be hiding in there.

With an uncomfortable shuffle you turned out the pockets of your tunic, and you patted down the fabric of your stockings to assure him that you hadn’t stuffed any belongings in there, either. “Need me to take off my boots as well?” you muttered.

“I’d appreciate it!” he cooed, and you cursed yourself silently as you slid your footwear off and planted your feet into the soft grass. It tickled a little, but you weren’t exactly in the mood to smile right now. “Wow, you really thought you’d survive in the city with this?” he whistled lowly, shaking his head from side to side softly. The rim of his hood slipped back as he did so, revealing a glimpse of messy russet-colored hair. “I almost feel bad. Maybe you need this more than they do.”

“They?” you repeated. He wasn’t doing this for himself, then?

Your answer came in the form of a knife pressed against your lips.

“Now now, curiosity killed the cat,” he whispered, and the darkness that shrouded his face sent shudders down your spine. His previously playful demeanor, treating this whole ordeal like a game, had vanished entirely, dissipated into the air. “I know you want to know where your precious belongings will be going, but I promise I only engage on noble missions, okay?”

Somehow the word “noble” felt like a mockery leaving the lips of a robber.

“You’re probably thinking I sound like a hypocrite,” he went on, now pulling the knife back and twirling it in his hand. “But trust me. I’m a thief, a crook, a criminal-- whatever you want to call me, I’ll take it. I’m the scum of the earth.” Why did he sound so proud when he said that? Was this another joke of his? “I’m not the one you have to watch out for, though.” The somber shadow returned to his eyes as he placed your coins, your bread, and his knife back into his pockets and pouches. His arms were surprisingly thick and muscular, despite his lithe body. “I’m like a lion, a ‘lying’ thief,” he went on, his face lighting up briefly with the poor joke, “but at least I’d never hurt a little kitten like you. Nya ha ha, those city folk, on the other hand? Cheetahs, all of them. They’ll eat you up and spit you out.”

You paused, trying to absorb the information he was pouring out to you. Was he… trying to warn you? The fellow who just robbed you? “What… is a cheetah?” you managed to ask at last.

A sigh. “Never mind. Just take care, won’t ya? Don’t let yourself get attacked by a roach like me again.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, as if in deep deliberation. “But if I do see you again… let me know if you see anyone like me in the city, alright?”

Briefly, ever so briefly, he pulled his head back to reveal curls like fire, eyes like the sun, and a smirk like… well, a very haughty cat.

But before you could ask what he meant by that, he jumped back and dashed off into the wind. “Whish!” was the last thing you heard from him as he darted away, like a cheerful breeze disappearing into the distance.

At once you dropped to your knees to count what change you had left. He hadn’t taken everything, much to your relief; was it pity that motivated him? Compassion? Concern? He did take your flower crown, though, the fiend. You scooped up your remaining coins and counted how much you had left to spend.

Seven cents.

So much for the good luck of goldenrod.

* * *

Bazaars and markets, lining every street.

Cobblestones and bricks beneath your feet.

Adults chatting, children running,

Pets playing, elders sunning.

The sun felt warmer, the folks taller

You suddenly felt insignificant, smaller.

The city exceeded even your dreamland

And you were so giddy you could hardly stand.

“I can’t believe I’m finally here,” you breathed. The sun was setting in the horizon, and at this time of day, everyone in the village would be returning from the fields and pastures, all the shops would be closing their doors, and supper would be soon approaching as everyone settled in for the night. Here, however, the hustle and bustle still seemed so lively; was it possible that the daytime was even busier than it was now? Apples were being purchased to your left, and couples were exiting homes on your right. Where would they be heading at this hour?

Even more stunning than the city life, however, was the artistry.

Every shop had a beautifully decorated sign out front, and the homes were all sorts of colors from pink to yellow to blue. Floral wreaths adorned the doors, and people wore vibrant skirts, trousers, blouses, and aprons embroidered with patterns and colors. You suddenly felt self-conscious of your earth tones, and you wondered if you should try to find a cheap apron or even a new kerchief to brighten up your appearance before you showed up at Lord Kim’s door.   
  


You looked down sullenly at your meager change and then up at the sky once again, and you felt despair tug at your heart as you realized more stars were appearing in the increasingly darkening sky. The ramifications of being attacked by that thief were now sinking in: you didn’t have enough money to stay at an inn overnight. The thought of sleeping alone in the woods was terrifying after your ordeal, but sleeping in the alleyways of a mysterious city would be even worse.

Maybe you could use some of the money that Lord Kim would pay you for your services-- all the more reason why you needed to find his manor as soon as possible.

Thankfully, nobles weren’t exactly known for their modesty. Everyone you asked knew exactly where his manor was located, and quite frankly, they looked embarrassed for you that you didn’t know. ‘I’m new here,’ you thought bitterly as you got a raised eyebrow and a roll of the eyes from the latest man you asked for directions.

At last it finally came into view: a magnificent building at the top of a hill overlooking the rest of the city. “More walking,” you muttered bitterly under your breath. With a resigned sigh, you rolled up your sleeves and shifted your baskets to rest more comfortably in the crook of your arm. One step forward, without looking behind. You only had one single objective on your mind:

Success.

When the door came in sight, you slowed your pace. You wanted a moment to breath and wipe the sweat from your face. First impressions were the ones that would last, after all, so you were determined to arrive with your shoulders back and chin tall. A humble villager on the outside, but a feisty dreamer at your core. This was your experience, your trip, your tale to tell forevermore.

Maybe it was the way your eyes sparkled. Maybe it was the way you pursed your lips. Maybe it was the aroma of flowers and berries coming from your baskets.

But when Lord Kim’s son opened the door and rested his beautiful blue eyes on you, he looked taken aback. Startled. Shocked.

Jihyun Kim, the lord’s son. Everyone knew the tragic tale of Jihyun, or V, the noble who was known as the most talented and accomplished painter in the entire territory. The man who had recently lost his fiancee Rika Kim to the stormy sea, and who had not created a single painting ever since losing her. He was an artist without a muse, a ship without a captain, a carriage without a driver.

A villager without a dream.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense. He wanted the freshest ingredients for paint, for still life models, for art. Fresh from the villages, not imported and having rested in the city for days already.

Well, almost everything. You couldn’t explain why V looked so… enthralled to see you. Was he finally about to start painting? Was he just grateful for your supplies?

If that was all, then why did his eyes look so… tender?

“H-hello,” you stammered, hoping to breathe life back into the silence that coated the air between you two. “I’ve come to deliver these berries, flowers, and herbs from my village.” You told him your name, explained your purpose, assured him that you were the most knowledgeable among your community when it came to plant life. “I suppose I shall leave these with you, Lord Kim, sir?”

Did his lip just twitch upward?

“Lord Kim is my father,” he whispered, and the hoarseness of his voice made you shiver. How long had it been since V had last used his voice, last found the courage to speak? “Please, Lord V is fine for me.” As you held out your baskets, though, he raised his hands to signal for you to stop. “I… would love to hear about your journey,” he murmured. “About your life.”

Love at first sight was for fairy tales.

Fairy tales were for children.

Surely, love at first sight was for children, too?

If that was the case, then why did your heart flutter when V asked with a smile,

“Won’t you come in and stay for a while?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word spread like dandelion tufts on the breeze.  
> And much like dandelions, the weakest weeds would be trampled.  
> Sometimes weeds were clearly weeds, but sometimes they made convincing flowers.

“A while” turned into a day, then into a week,

With the gentle Lord V, a soul humble and kind.

Each new moment did your curiosity pique,

As you wondered what transpired inside of his mind.

With a polite bow, he would greet you each morning,

then head to his chambers but invite you along.

As if you were not a mere peasant for scorning,

He’d fill your days with his painting and with his song.

Over a cup of tea or a glass of fine wine,

On every word he hung as though caught in your strings.

He’d ask you questions about your life til this time.

But why would he inquire into such mundane things?

Once he took you to the gardens to view the plants

That’s when you felt something blooming: perhaps romance?

* * *

Rumors spread fast regarding matters of nobility. High and low, near and far, word would travel faster than horses and spread wider than sunlight.

Even to places where sunlight dared not reach.

“I hear some harlot has been spotted around Lord V’s manor,” a woman’s soft murmur whispered, low like the faint whistle of wind in the shadows. “So soon, too.” A fluttering sigh like a breeze stirring up flower petals. “So quick to abandon his fiancee’s memory, is he? Even though I left him with a very… acute reminder of my love?”

“A liar and a hypocrite,” another whisper hummed from her side, and the dim glow of the room barely revealed a sneer curling up onto the owner’s thin white lips. “Disgusting.”

“No need to get worked up,” the first voice replied with a little tut. “I’m intrigued, more than anything else. Perhaps we should… investigate.” She turned her head, and a faint torchlight illuminated her glistening green eyes, narrow and bright like a cat’s. “Be a doll and help me, won’t you, Saeran?”

“I’ve been itching to have some fun.” The second voice suddenly dropped off, only to suddenly let loose a small, high-pitched laugh. “Hehe. What did you have in mind, Savior?”

“Something that’s even worthy of your skills,” she breathed. “No, something that _requires_ your skills, dearest Saeran.” Her gentle exhale was hardly enough to stir a spider’s web.

But it was enough to echo inside his hollow chest where his heart should have been.

“I need you to infiltrate that filthy manor. _Lord_ V,” she spat his name out scornfully, “needs a bit of… tough love. I trust you won’t let me down.”

A low rumble that broke off in another chuckle. “Heh, me? I would _never_. Everything I do… is for eternal paradise.”

* * *

“Gardener Choi,” you began tentatively on one particularly warm, sunny day. You’d spent nearly two weeks at the manor at this point, and you’d begun to develop somewhat of a friendship with many of the staff that served Lord V and Lord Kim. For whatever reason, they had taken a shine to you; perhaps they appreciated having someone else around from a humble background. At least, most of them seemed to appreciate you-- you were somewhat skeptical that the head maid, Vanderwood, wanted another person to clean up after, especially one who trailed as much dirt as you did when you spent a day out in the gardens.

But why were you still here, anyway? Why did Lord V end every night with the words, “Sleep well, little sunshine.” Why did he lead you into your own room, and tell you as you bade farewell for the evening, “I look forward to tomorrow with you.” You had no choice but to listen, but to heed his words, but to stay put: he was a noble, after all, and you were a nobody from a small village that really only specialized in goat’s milk and strawberry fields.

“Why do you think Lord V spends so much time with me?” Aside from the fact that the elderly gardener was your favorite servant of the manor, you also just trusted his judgment as a person. In his advanced age, he had seen, heard, _experienced_ so much more than anyone else here. The fact that the garden was the most beautiful collection of shrubbery, trees, flowers, vines, and bushes that you had ever had the fortune to witness didn’t hurt, either. You constantly found yourself drawn here, so the amount of time you spent with Choi only seemed to grow greater and greater. Basically, when you weren’t with V, you were in the garden.

It reminded you of home.

A soft chuckle left Choi’s lips, and a hearty twinkle glimmered in his eyes. The old man put down his shears and reached over to rest a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He likes ye, youngster,” he told you with a wide, and nearly toothless, grin.

“Well…” You weren’t about to deny that. Obviously he enjoyed your company, or else he would have kicked you out ages ago. The real question you had was deeper than that-- _why_ did he like you? “Oh, Gardener Choi.” You waved him over, and he crouched down beside you to get a closer look where you were pointing. “These roots are getting really dried out. I’m worried these tomatoes won’t make it….” 

He squinted, and you tried to use your body to shield him from the harsh sunlight. “Ah, yes,” he murmured thoughtfully, scratching his chin as he began to pinch at the base of the vines. “I may need t’ fetch some new tomaters,” he agreed solemnly. “I’ll head t’ town t’morrow. Watch out fer my babies, will ye?”

“Of course,” you assured him. “As if they were my own. They’ll be bright and healthy for when you come back.”

The brightness of his half-toothed smile that day seemed so insignificant at the time.

As did the blue-green glimmer you may or may not have spotted--you still weren’t sure if it was but a trick of the light--when you looked overhead to the leaves of the cherry trees.

* * *

Hustling, bustling, ‘round the marketplace people milled.

From east to west, north to south, the streets people filled.

The sky was somewhat cloudy, blocking the worst of the sun’s rays,

Which meant for the bazaar that it would be one of the busiest days.

One man moved at a slightly slower pace than many of the others. Gardener Choi could not quite keep up with the same intensity as the young folks, but he was sprightly in his own right; his eyes glittered and his words poured out as he observed all the different fruits, vegetables, seeds, and sprouts available for sale. “I could pick up a couple o’ berries with the tomaters… That youngster really loves strawberries….”

That youngster. The enigma of the manor. The little sapling that was beginning to blossom and flourish under Lord V’s light.

Only two weeks had passed, yet that youth was already growing more confident, more outgoing, more… open. Those petals were unfurling from the bud and exposing their beauty, their color, their character. “I wonder what the lord is thinkin’,” the gardener murmured as he walked away from a stall with a basket full of apples. “But I gotta admit, [Y/N] is a delight.”

Apples were heavier than he had remembered. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the way his arms were beginning to droop and his basket was beginning to tilt.

A flicker of red, spilling out onto the ground. One apple strayed from the basket, leaving its companions behind, and rolled leisurely across the cobblestones before bumping into someone’s feet, putting an end to its trail.

“Excuse me, sir?”

The old man squinted and cupped his hand around his ear.

“I believe you dropped this.”

A young man walked up to him, holding an apple in his outstretched gloved hand. “I would hate to see a beautiful apple go to waste.”

Black vest. Black trousers. Black stockings. Black shoes, to boot.

If not for his white linen shirt, he’d be covered in black from head to foot.

“Thank ye, lad,” the gardener told him with his big, snaggle-toothed grin. “I’d hate t’ go back t’ the manor without all o’ these.”

The young man’s sparkling minty eyes grew wide in his face; against his pale skin, they almost looked out of place. Like two bright berries on an otherwise barren bush. “I thought I recognized you,” he said with a little chuckle. “You’re Lord Kim’s gardener, are you not?” he asked as the old man accepted the fallen fruit, reaching out to grasp it with his wrinkled, slender fingers. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Have been fer fifty years,” Gardener Choi announced proudly, puffing his chest out slightly. “The greatest honor o’ mah life.”

The boy’s eyes sparkled like glistening emeralds, and he almost looked excited as he reached into the satchel on his side. “I’m a farmer, myself,” he explained. “I’ve always dreamed of being able to see Lord Kim’s garden. I hear it’s magnificent.”

The elder gentleman nodded, and a soft blush rose to his cheeks. “I do mah best to keep it in prime shape,” he replied. “Nothin’ but the best fer my master, y’know?”

The young man nodded slowly, and the loose tufts of his white hair fluttered as he moved. “I completely understand that. Nothing but the best,” he agreed. Finally he withdrew an object from his bag, and he dipped his head slightly as he held it out in front of him. It was a long, thick, vibrant orange root, lined with fine ridges and sprouting small leafy tufts from its top. “Carrots are my specialty,” he murmured. “Does Lord Kim like carrots?”

The old man almost seemed taken aback by the sudden display. “This is a beaut!” he breathed. “Ye really have yerself a talent, laddy!” His polite warmth had burst into a genuine enthusiasm.

The boy, too, seemed rather tickled by his reaction. He let out a breezy laugh, and his gaze flickered back and forth between the carrot and the gardener. “You’re a funny one,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen anyone so excited about my carrots. But yes, I’d agree.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully and lifted his gaze to the sky; more clouds were beginning to shuffle in, and dark hues were beginning to bubble amongst the puffs of white. “I have some purple and yellow ones, too, and they’re just as marvelous,” he proclaimed, pride lightening up his tone. “Would you…” He lowered his gaze back to the bruised apple in the farmer’s palms. “...humor me and spare a look?”

A low rumble of laughter like a purr slipped from the old man’s thin throat. “I’d love t’ take a gander! I reckon the lords might enjoy a change o’ pace for supper!” He gently tucked the apple back into his basket. “An’ I always love t’ see a buddin’ gardener’s work!”

“Ahaha, I’m sure you’ll like what you see.” He jerked his thumb behind him, gesturing towards the edges of the plaza. “I couldn’t afford to get a main street stall, but I did manage to put together an assortment around the block.” He turned to head off, but he leaned back to give the old man a delicate smile with his pale lips and his serene seafoam-colored eyes.

The old man may not have been able to walk fast, but he surely could talk at the rate of a mile a minute. His white-haired companion was learning everything about the garden, about the flowers that were growing right now, about the produce that was soon to come, about the youngster who had recently taken up residence there.

And that’s when the fluffy sheep’s eyes glistened like those of a hungry wolf. “Sounds lively,” he murmured. “But I had already gathered as much,” he added in a low whistle. Too low for anyone, especially an elder, to hear.

“Hey, laddy, can we rest fer a minute? Mah old bones need a break.”

Candidly, his ears needed a break, for that matter; he was developing a migraine. “We’re almost there,” he murmured. “Can you make it?”

“I…” The older man shook his head. “Sorry, boy.”

“Don’t fret,” the young man tried to reassure him, although his voice was surprisingly terse. He extended his hand and asked, “Shall we take a shortcut?”

A tap of his heel. A twitch of his brow.

A young man’s desire to get going right now.

The clouds pulled in overhead, growing ever more gray

And the young man knew he didn’t have much time to stay.

A step and a stride, followed by a shuffle. The pair hurried into a nearby alleyway, where they could avoid the townspeople milling about. 

“Don’t want anyone to bump into you. That would be… terrible,” the young man said as they rested against the side of the bakery, opposite to the church. The smells of freshly baked bread wafting out the front door was curving around the corners and straying into the alleyway. The gap between the bakery and the church was narrow, but it was wide enough for two people.

Not much more than that.

The green-eyed boy walked over to the elder gardener, who was leaning back against the left wall of the alley and trying to catch his breath. “I don’t have the lungs I used t’ have,” he panted with his familiar gappy grin.

A grin that was he was sick of seeing at this point.

“That’s a shame, really,” the young man said with a small chuckle. “Hehe. I mean, it makes my life easier, but…

It’s more fun when they scream.”

Now it was time for a smile of his own, although perhaps he should call it a smirk.

The time had finally come for him to get the ball rolling; his duty, he could not shirk.

As cold wind blew ‘tween the walls and thunder crackled overhead,

The young man’s eyes glistened, and the old man’s eyes filled with dread.

One hand slammed to the bricks, and the young man shifted his weight,

And as he slid his knife out from his satchel, the old man knew his fate.

“It’s been terrible knowing you, Gardener,” he whispered with glee,

“So won’t you at least put on a bit of a show for me?”

Prayers left his trembling lips and tears slid from his eyes,

But as the rain began to pour, nobody could hear his cries.

A quick nick to the neck, and the young man leaped back.

The old man’s body hit the ground with a wet smack.

A flicker of red, spilling out onto the ground. 

“How boring,” the young man murmured as he lifted the knife to the sky, allowing the rain to wash off the blood in a skinny scarlet stream. “For someone who yapped so much, you really do have a weak pair of lungs.”

Feeling satisfied with the state of his knife, the young man slid it back into his bag. Gently he clenched his teeth around the fingers of his right glove, and with a jerk of his head he yanked it off. With his bare hand, he reached into the now-abandoned basket of apples, lying in a heap on the ground. No point in wasting food.

“Sweet dreams, old man. And thanks for the fertilizer.”

* * *

“You feel it too, don’t you?” you whispered softly to the wilting blossoms of the daisies at the edge of the garden. “You feel his absence.”

The whole manor had been in mourning upon the discovery of Gardener Choi’s death; the gossip had spread throughout the city before his body had even grown cold. Part of you felt responsible for his death, as ridiculous as that sounded. Logically you knew that accompanying him to the marketplace would have been more of a hindrance than a help, seeing as how you didn’t know much about the city at all. Nevertheless, you know he was heading out. He had always seemed full of energy despite his advanced age, judging from how he tended to the plants so diligently, but he was still old, and carrying too many heavy baskets was bound to--

No. You couldn’t afford to think like that. You weren’t responsible. Besides, he asked you to watch after the garden for him in his absence.

You just didn’t expect that he would never return.

Even as you admired the beautiful blossoms and tried to shake your guilt out of your head, that didn’t prevent you from feeling depressed as you gathered a colorful cluster of zinnia, gladiolus, and forget-me-not to bring inside to the memorial that Lord Kim was hosting for the departed man. The body had been returned in one piece, but…

You weren’t exactly in a hurry to see it.

The worst part was that the rain had washed away all of the evidence. Only one wound had been found; it was just at a critical artery in his neck. You knew enough about the human body to know that a slice there was basically a death sentence. This was no accident, no slip and fall, no heart attack. This was deliberate murder.

Thieves, crooks, rogues, vagabonds. You knew they were out there, but to strike in broad daylight?

‘No. Don’t think about it.’

As you walked into the main hall, you tried to pick out some familiar faces among the nobles and staff that were scurrying about. Of course you knew the head maid, Vanderwood, who was currently directing some of the other maids and butlers with an exasperated look on their face, but the cooks, launderers, masons, and other servants all began to blur together, a swarm of strangers.

But then your gaze came to rest on those mint eyes you knew so well.

“L-Lord V!” you gasped, and you tried to hurry through the crowd to him. Apparently, not just anyone had the luxury of calling him “V”, judging from the nasty looks and hushed whispers that began to dart around the room. “Lord Jihyun,” you corrected yourself as you reached him, meeting halfway in the middle of the hall. “It’s, ah, a pleasure to see you.”

“[Y/N],” V breathed, and you could see that he was trying his best to muster a smile, despite the reason that everyone had united today. “It’s… I’m sorry.”

Always putting others before himself. That was a terrible habit of his, but you weren’t about to admonish him (not even gently) in the presence of so many people. “No, I’m sorry,” you replied, dipping your head solemnly. “You must have grown up with Gardener Choi.”

V ran a hand through his hair; you couldn’t help but notice that his usually slicked-back bangs were hanging loosely around his face. Had he been too upset to care for himself properly? You hadn’t seen him once since the manor caught word of the gardener’s death, and even his usual morning and evening greetings had seemed so much… quieter.

As though he were being watched by a ghost.

“Lord Kim!”

You were about to reply, but one of the squires suddenly rushed up to the two of you. “Lord Jihyun, is your father here?”

V shook his head and explained, “He’s finishing up the preparations. I came here to begin organizing everyone in the meantime. Is something the matter?”

“We have a visitor,” the squire informed him promptly, standing straight at attention. “He’s with the knights at the front door now.”

“A visitor?” V echoed. He furrowed his brow and folded his arms, pressing the puffy blue-striped fabric in tightly to his chest. “We haven’t the time. We’re still in mourning.”

“Th-that is the reason for his arrival, My Lord,” the squire went on, looking increasingly uncomfortable the longer the exchange dragged on. “He claims… he claims to be Gardener Choi’s grandson.”

V’s eyes grew wide and his face grew dark.

He turned to you with an expression quite stark.

“Come with me?” he asked in a soft hush,

And to the front entrance you two did rush.

Awaiting before the double doors stood a young man,

With a gentle smile and a pair of sprouts in his hands.

“Greetings, My Lord,” the boy said with a slight bow,

“I know that the ideal time to come is not now.

In light of my grandfather’s passing, I made haste

So that I may be the gardener in his place.”

He extended his gloved hands, bearing a small pot

“For you, Lord Jihyun, daffodils I have brought.”

Then he turned to you, much to your surprise.

And in his mint eyes, you were mesmerized.

“For my grandfather’s new friend, I bring a gift too.”

A pot with bright red spider lilies, intended just for you.

“T-thank you,” V stammered as he graciously accepted the little bushel of bright yellow blooms. “I never knew anything about Gardener Choi’s family,” he confessed. 

“But I can see his kindness and his tender love and care in this flower,” you whispered. “You’ve watched it carefully, haven’t you?”

“Hehe. I… I always act with the utmost care.” His gaze flickered to the flowers and then to your face. The soft pink of his cheeks complemented the rosy hue of his jacket. “I wish to at least join you for my grandfather’s memorial, if that would not trouble you, Lord Jihyun.” He dipped his head, and his fluffy white bangs dipped into his eyes, casting a long shadow over his otherwise angelic face.

“It would be my honor,” V told him, and he nodded to one of the knights to take his flower pot away. “Put this in my chambers, please,” he directed. “Would you like them to take yours, too?” he asked you.

You shook your head, admiring the crimson tendrils unfurling from your own flower. “What is your name?” you asked the newcomer at last, noticing he was now standing there silently and tugging at the edges of his black gloves.

As though he had been waiting for his cue, your words stirred the boy. 

He lifted his attention to you and murmured, with a smile like sunshine, “S--Ray. Ray Choi.”


End file.
